


we'll be a fine line (we'll be alright)

by bechloehuh



Series: fine line [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mutual Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bechloehuh/pseuds/bechloehuh
Summary: Chloe shares some news with Beca.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: fine line [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722409
Comments: 151
Kudos: 338





	1. that liquid guilt is on my lips

_"scared my love, you'll go / spend my love, heart broke / so my love don't show / scared my love, you'll go / fingers walk your thigh / breathe my love, get high / and oh, i'm so scared / oh i'm so scared / it's just for tonight / so i take a sip, wait 'til it hits / that liquid guilt is on my lips / i'm wasted on you / too good to be good for me / too bad that that's all i need.”_  
— too good, troye sivan

* * *

Beca’s phone vibrates on the desk beside her, screen lighting up in the darkness of her apartment.

She takes a second to look around as she slides her headphones down to hang around her neck, unaware of how dark it had gotten since she started to work on her latest song. She’s not surprised she didn’t notice the room changing around her; it’s easy to get lost in her work when there’s so much going on in her head that she’s desperate to escape from.

Looking at the phone, her breath hitches when she sees Chloe’s name above the text preview; her heart instantly starting to pound in her chest when another text comes through as she unlocks her phone with her thumbprint.

 **[9:12PM] Chloe:**  
Hey are you awake?  
I’m outside

She thinks about calling Chloe and telling her she’s not in—she’d feel bad, but at least she wouldn’t have to deal with looking at Chloe face-to-face for the first time since their fight—but ultimately, her gut tells her to text her back.

She’s never really been good at telling Chloe _no._

 **[9:13PM] Beca:**  
yeah come in

And she doesn’t have to ask; she already knows Chloe remembers the door code.

She wishes she’d, at least, had some time to prepare for Chloe’s arrival. Not that she thinks Chloe will judge her for how messy their— _her_ apartment is, since she knows how untidy Beca can be after so many years of living together.

Still, she hasn’t seen Chloe in two weeks; since their small fight about coffee that ended up turning into a huge fight about how bad of a friend Chloe has been lately.

Beca, of course, regrets it immensely.

Chloe, ultimately, is _not_ the one to blame.

She had apologized, albeit over text, and the two have been engaging in occasional, stilted conversations ever since; conversations that always result in Beca being pissed at herself for blowing up at Chloe like she did. A picture of a funny meme here, a random ‘don’t forget lunch!’ from Chloe there—because that’s the type of friend Chloe is, even when they’re not talking—and a link to an interesting article that Beca sends just because she knows Chloe likes to read something on her breaks; they all end exactly the same way, with Beca ‘forgetting’ to check her phone and being too awkward to respond late, until she’s lying in bed hours later trying to think of a way to make things right. It’s happened every day for the past two weeks, and although Beca knows that Chloe visiting her right now is necessary, she’d still rather avoid the confrontation for as long as possible.

The knock on the door scares Beca, despite her expecting it, and as she makes her way across the apartment, she stops by the door to check the small mirror that Chloe had hung on the wall when they first moved in. Admittedly, she doesn’t look as bad as she had expected, but she still adjusts her hair and checks her teeth anyway, just in case.

When she opens the door, just the sight of Chloe is suffocating.

It’s strange, the way Chloe walks into her apartment hesitantly, like it’s her first time and she’s worried about making herself _too_ at home. It’s actually not like Chloe at all, and as Beca watches her best friend step past her and hover by the couch—the one they spent three years sleeping with each other on; the memories still so vividly ingrained in Beca’s mind—Beca feels her heart slowly, painfully splitting in two.

“Is, uh, everything okay?” She asks as she shuts the door behind her, the soft click of the lock sounding way too loud in the tense and silent apartment.

Chloe doesn’t text Beca to ask her if she’s awake, nor does she ask if she can come inside. This used to be her apartment, she shouldn’t be looking around like it’s a foreign place to her. Beca’s _never_ seen Chloe with her arms crossed defensively in front of her, her lip caught between her teeth as she avoids eye contact and looks around like this _wasn’t_ her home.

The woman in front of her isn’t the person who barrelled her way into Beca’s life almost ten years ago and ultimately, Beca _hates_ that this is what they’ve turned into.

“Chloe?”

“Everything’s fine, yeah.” She clears her throat, turning around to look behind her at Beca’s bed, the one that Amy had claimed five years ago before either Chloe or Beca got a chance to argue with her. Despite sleeping in it for a year and a half, Beca still feels weird about it—mostly at the fact that she has her own bed to herself again and she doesn’t have to deal with the annoying things Chloe did that she always claimed to hate.

(Yeah, it’s hard to sleep alone but Beca is starting to get the hang of it again.)

“So,” Beca exhales out a soft sigh, moving to sit down on the couch next to where Chloe is standing. 

She tries not to let it bother her too much when Chloe instantly moves away from her to walk the small distance to the kitchen. 

“Um, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She asks, trying to alleviate some of the tension that has gathered—and continues to build up—around them in the quiet apartment.

With her back to her, Beca can’t try to decipher what Chloe is thinking; something she feels like she became a professional at six months into their friendship.

(Something that’s been getting harder and harder to do the longer they spend apart.)

“I, um…” Chloe’s sentence hangs in the air for a moment before she turns around.

Beca’s mouth parts when she sees that Chloe is crying—or at least _close_ to crying—but her words get stuck in her throat and she holds her breath, readying herself for the inevitable punch to the gut.

 _‘We can’t be friends anymore’_ she imagines Chloe saying. She’s seen this play out so many times in her dreams over the past few months. Chloe telling her that she knows how she feels and that she can’t continue to be friends with somebody who she can clearly see is hurting because of her. Because _of course,_ even in Beca’s dreams when Chloe is leaving her, she’s still the most kind and considerate person in the world.

“Chicago asked me to marry him.”

It takes Beca a moment to find her voice. She’s not surprised—it’s hard to feel _anything_ these days, never mind _surprised_ —that Chicago finally proposed, but the announcement is still shocking, and so vastly different to what she imagined Chloe saying. 

And she definitely expects to feel like the air is being pulled from the room, leaving her unable to breathe—unable to lie and tell Chloe that she’s _so_ happy for her—but it still fucking hurts.

“That’s... _amazing,_ Chloe.”

She watches with bated breath as Chloe nods, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and she’s a little confused as to why Chloe isn’t smiling and gushing and excitedly showing Beca her ring and answering all the questions that Beca doesn’t have the willpower to ask right now.

And it’s a terrifying thing; watching Chloe cry.

A tear slips down her face and Beca instantly stands up, though she hesitates, not quite sure what to do. She wants to hug Chloe, to reach up and wipe her face and tell her that everything will be okay, she’s here for her—she’ll _always_ be here for her—but her feet are rooted to the ground and she’s _scared._

“Why are you crying?” She asks Chloe, a little surprised at herself for managing to keep her voice steady and her face neutral.

Chloe laughs, then; something that Beca quickly notices she hasn’t heard in a while. The sound brings an ache to Beca’s heart that feels entirely too overwhelming, but she still smiles despite herself. She wants to take a few deep breaths to calm her pounding heart—something Chloe taught her to do when she’s anxious—but she doesn’t want Chloe to notice how much this is affecting her.

“I don’t know,” Chloe sighs, wiping her eyes. “I’m just…”

Even though she doesn’t finish her sentence, Beca somehow instantly understands.

_Scared. Confused. Sad._

Beca’s eyes drop to the floor when Chloe looks at her; she doesn’t want Chloe to notice how uncomfortable she is, but she also cannot handle looking at her right now without possibly breaking down. If she just congratulates her, let’s Chloe gush about it for a bit; she’ll get through it. Maybe she’ll make up an excuse about needing to get back to working on her song, hinting for Chloe to leave. _Then_ she can react properly—when Chloe has left her on her own.

But then out of the corner of her eye, she sees Chloe bring her left hand up to wipe her face, and Beca catches a glimpse of her finger and she frowns when she sees that there’s no ring on it.

She’s not sure if she wants to know the answer or not, but she asks anyway.

“Did you say yes?”

Chloe shakes her head. “No, not yet.”

Her eyes finally lock with Chloe’s.

“Is everything okay?”

Chloe’s shoulders come up in a small shrug as she shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak; ultimately, after a beat, all that comes out is a soft sigh.

With the tension around them quickly becoming unbearable, Beca chooses not to ask any further questions and instead makes her way over to the fridge to pull out the bottle of Jack Daniel’s that she had planned on drinking alone tomorrow night. She’s not sure whether Chloe wants to stay or not, but she figures it’s only polite of her to at least _try_ to celebrate her best friend’s possible engagement.

After getting the bottle of Diet Coke out of the fridge and two small glasses out of the cupboard, she turns to look at Chloe, holding out the two glasses for her to take. They don’t say anything else as they wordlessly move around each other; Beca placing the two bottles on the table in front of the couch in the small living room; Chloe taking her shoes and jacket off and leaving them by the door before sitting down and finally making herself comfortable.

Chloe mentions the fact that Beca hasn’t changed her calendar since February and in an unspoken, unanimous agreement, they choose not to talk about it.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for Beca to get drunk.

The only thing she’s eaten all day is a breakfast bar she had with her morning coffee, and she’s always been a little bit of a lightweight when it comes to drinking anything that isn’t beer.

Chloe is no better either. Beca would argue that she’s even drunker.

They had relocated to the floor an hour ago. Beca doesn’t have a TV and Chloe wanted to watch a movie so they had both slid onto the floor, backs against the couch, and Beca opened up Netflix on her laptop and put on the first thing Chloe had pointed to saying “that looks good.”

Somewhere between the beginning of the movie and now, Chloe had taken Beca’s hand in hers.

(Beca doesn’t trust that her heart won’t completely shatter if she lets go.)

* * *

Chloe’s head on her shoulder feels like the heaviest thing in the world, but she immediately misses it when the movie finishes and Chloe sits up.

She throws back what’s left in her glass as the credits roll, leaning forward to reach for the bottle of Jack.

“I think we’ve had enough,” Chloe says, reaching out to stop Beca. 

What Beca didn’t know was that when Chloe had put the bottle back on the table ten minutes ago, she hadn’t screwed the cap on properly.

The contents of the bottle come spilling out, drenching her clothes. The feeling of the cold and the wet liquid immediately shocks her and she’s quickly standing up, cursing and laughing as she rushes over to the kitchen for a towel.

“You fucking asshole,” she laughs, looking over at Chloe who is lying down on the floor, drunkenly giggling and trying to wheeze out sentences that Beca’s too drunk to even try to decipher.

The towel doesn’t do much to clean or dry her, so she pulls her t-shirt up over her head and slips her sweatpants off to change into something else. Discarding them onto the floor and making a promise to herself—that she already knows she’s not going to keep—to do laundry tomorrow, she then makes her way over to the drawers next to her bed to pull out a clean t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts.

But then there’s Chloe, who is no longer lying on the floor and laughing, and Beca had completely forgotten about the fact that not only is she _here_ but she’s a guest now, and Beca should probably—definitely, she should absolutely _definitely_ not be changing right in front of her.

She catches her eye, ready to apologize and tell her to turn away for a second, but her breath catches when she sees how Chloe is looking at her.

As much as she tries to tell herself that Chloe is _not_ checking her out, she knows better.

“Um...” she trails off as she pulls her shorts on and watches Chloe stand up—she almost rushes over to help her up when she stumbles a little—but she daren’t move or say anything else in fear of scaring her away.

(She hates that she’s constantly afraid of crossing a line with Chloe, even when she’s not doing _anything.)_

But Chloe just stands, looking at her, her drunk gaze searing Beca’s skin.

Beca’s hands clench around the t-shirt she’s still holding.

She turns around, facing away from Chloe to put the t-shirt on before things start to feel weird. She _is_ essentially standing half naked in front of her ex- _whatever_ Chloe is, and although she’s always felt confident in front of her—living with her for so long taught her that there are absolutely _no_ boundaries when it comes to Chloe Beale—she still feels just a _little_ weird about it.

It feels much better to have clothes on again but the hot, nervous feeling she felt when Chloe looked her up and down is still so present; still _raging_ in her mind.

For a moment, she thinks that Chloe is going to leave. The movie is over, they’re both drunk, it’s eleven thirty, and Chloe has no other reason to stay.

A couple of hours ago, Beca couldn’t wait for Chloe to leave. Now, she’s not sure she’ll survive if she does.

She’s ready to ask Chloe if she wants her to order an Uber for her but before she can, Chloe is sitting back down on the floor, in front of Beca’s laptop. She starts to type something and Beca panics for a moment, hoping Chloe doesn’t open her music software or any of the many word documents that are in a folder that is very clearly named _‘Chloe’_ on her desktop.

She makes her way over to the couch, sitting down on the floor next to Chloe once again and reaching over for the bottle of Jack—this time making sure to be extra careful when she pours them both a drink.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Chloe glance at her before there’s music coming from her laptop speakers.

She looks at the bottom corner of the Spotify window to see what song Chloe has put on, smiling when she reads that she is, of course, playing Taylor Swift.

“Bec?”

“Hmm?” She looks at Chloe, then down at the glass that Chloe is holding out in front of her. Confused, she tries to take the glass from Chloe—maybe the drink is too strong and she wants more Coke in it—but Chloe immediately pulls away and laughs. “No, cheers. Idiot.”

“Oh.”

She brings her glass up to knock it against Chloe’s, smiling at her before taking a sip.

(She definitely shouldn’t be drinking any more.)

“Can I ask you something?” Chloe reaches over to turn the volume down before continuing. “I’ve always, like, wondered…” Beca waits, holding her breath. “How come you never went to L.A. with Khaled? You know, after the tour.”

Beca, a little taken aback by the question—she doesn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t that—takes another drink before setting her glass down on the table.

“Um,” she frowns, thinking for a minute. She’s sure she mentioned to Chloe that she preferred living in New York—that it was a lot closer to the girls and her family, and her apartment was only a train ride away from Khaled’s New York studio.

Still, she struggles to find a way to put that into a sentence that doesn’t in fact sound like the complete lie that it is.

“I, uh...” She huffs. 

“Bec?”

“I stayed for you.” She takes another drink—a bigger gulp this time, which she knows is a bad idea—and reaches out to skip the current song.

“Why?”

This wasn’t the conversation they were supposed to be having, Beca is sure, but the alcohol in her system has always been good at bringing out the truth.

“I don’t think I would’ve survived living in L.A. on my own.”

“You wouldn’t have been alone.”

“You know what I mean.”

She looks at Chloe, gaze immediately dropping to her lips for a split second—and she desperately hopes that Chloe doesn’t notice—before she’s turning back towards the laptop; Taylor Swift’s discography is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world to her right now.

“I don’t,” Chloe says, sipping her drink through her straw.

Beca sighs. 

She looks at her, watches the way the laptop light reflects off of her eyes that are gazing—very drunkenly, Beca tells herself—straight at Beca’s lips.

“It would have been too weird,” she says, “without you there with me.”

 _But you left anyway,_ she’s too scared to add.

“I would’ve visited you. I’ve always wanted to go to—”

“It wouldn’t have been good enough.”

“What?” Chloe asks and Beca gulps, her heart hammering in her chest. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I physically cannot”—her nose and eyes start to sting—“stand not seeing you every day, never mind living at the other side of the country from you.”

“Beca—”

“I can’t do this,” she sighs, placing her glass down on the table and slamming her laptop closed. The music cuts off and the sudden force of the slam makes Chloe jump, and Beca is about to stand up and ask Chloe if she can please leave when she feels Chloe’s hand on her arm, stopping her.

It’s the fact that she simultaneously feels calm yet _burned_ at Chloe’s touch that causes the tears to finally spring to her eyes.

“Please, don’t,” she whispers. Her bottom lip trembles and her vision starts to get blurry due to the unshed tears as she looks at Chloe. 

“What, Bec?”

There are so many things she wants to tell Chloe; don’t call me _Bec_ , don’t touch me, don’t look at me like that, don’t don’t _don’t_ marry him.

All she can do is shake her head, finally letting herself cry.

When Chloe pulls her into a hug—a little uncomfortable due to the awkward angle at which they’re both sitting—it doesn’t fill Beca with the warmth that she’s used to feeling whenever Chloe hugs or even _touches_ her.

She didn’t think she’d ever be here, crying in Chloe’s arms about the possibility of her marrying another person. Three years ago, she would’ve sworn that _she’d_ be the one Chloe was thinking of marrying but of course, Beca had to go and fuck that up.

She definitely doesn’t deserve the care that Chloe is giving her; the way she hushes her, softly running her hands through her hair, the way she hugs her tighter—so tight that Beca feels like she’s going to suffocate.

Chloe doesn’t ask her why she’s crying but Beca’s sure that Chloe knows it’s because she’s still in love with her.

Or maybe she’s just _hoping_ that Chloe knows so she doesn’t have to say it out loud.

It’s a testament to Chloe’s character that she’s sitting here on Beca’s living room floor holding her as she cries, when she had just been proposed to. It makes Beca wonder if Chloe would actually _rather_ be here with her than at home with Chicago. If that’s the case, Beca needs to know why.

She sucks in a breath, pulling back from Chloe’s tight hug, and immediately missing it, to compose herself again.

They’re a lot closer now due to Chloe having shifted forward to pull Beca closer until she was almost on top of her. Her skin burns at the contact, where Chloe’s knees are pressed against hers, and as Beca pulls back to wipe her face with her t-shirt, Chloe reaches out to place her hand on Beca’s shoulder.

She rubs it slowly, still leaning forward and showing no signs of pulling back.

“You okay?” She asks softly. Her gentle tone makes Beca’s stomach churn and she immediately nods her head, hoping that Chloe will stop rubbing her arm and finally pull away from her.

But she doesn’t and Beca can’t help how her gaze shifts down to Chloe’s lips once again.

She swallows thickly, looking at Chloe’s eyes; flickering between her mouth and her eyes until, as she starts to slowly lean forward, she can’t tear them away from Chloe’s lips any longer.

Her heart is pounding; her breathing ragged—though, she tells herself that’s due to the crying and _nothing_ else—as she slowly inches closer.

Her excuse to herself is that she’s drunk. That’s all that this is. She’s not sure what Chloe’s reaction will be but she’s drunk and she wants to be selfish. All that Beca cares about is the two of them right now. Nothing else exists outside of this moment.

She licks her lips, her breathing labored and her thoughts jumbled until all she can see and feel is Chloe; Chloe’s breath against her lips and Chloe’s bottom lip quivering before their lips touch and Beca’s hands instinctively come up to cup her face.

Despite knowing everything about kissing Chloe—knowing what she tastes like and knowing the way her own heart rate spikes at the contact and knowing, with so much familiarity, how her stomach rolls in a way that makes her feel sick and excited all at once—the contact still causes her heart to clench, turns her brain to mush and makes her gasp quietly, unable to control her reaction.

And she immediately feels guilty—feels like the shittiest person in the world for being _that_ guy; the guy that caused her own parents’ divorce—but she indulges in it for as long as Chloe will let her, unable to resist or pull away in case this is the last time she ever gets Chloe like this.

Chloe’s hand falls to her knee, her grip tightening and pulling Beca in even more; pulling her in without even trying, something that she’s been doing for a long time now. It’s soft, the way Chloe’s mouth slants against her own, her nose fitting snugly against Beca’s cheek. The steadiness is grounding, making Beca feel like this could be it; their ending and their beginning all at once.

But it’s Chloe’s choked out sob that breaks the kiss and Beca pulls back just slightly, opening her eyes to gauge her reaction. Her thumb reaches out to catch Chloe’s tears, using the pad of it to wipe her cheek in a way so delicate that Chloe’s reaction is instantaneous; she parts her mouth with a soft, shaky sigh, her eyes closing as she moves her head towards Beca’s hand.

Beca swallows, tilting her head and moving forward slightly. The pull is clearly affecting Chloe too, because she moves in again, almost meeting Beca halfway before she’s changing her mind, pulling back in a way that makes Beca think she’s been burned. Her breathing is shaky and her eyes are glazed over but she’s still the most beautiful woman that Beca has ever seen, and she has a brief thought that she feels sorry for whoever she has to date in the future; whoever they are, they’ll never come close to Chloe.

The weak, trembling exhale that Chloe lets out as she cries so openly causes Beca’s heart to crack in two and she immediately drops her hands to rest them on Chloe’s knees.

 _We’re drunk,_ Beca wants to say. _It doesn’t mean anything._

She can’t tell Chloe that it means _everything_.

“Chloe—”

“I can’t,” Chloe whispers, shaking her head. “I can’t do this with you again, Beca.”

The sound of her name coming from Chloe’s mouth causes Beca’s throat to tighten. Her lips press together as she clenches her jaw.

Chloe’s gaze drops to her lips again before she painfully tears her eyes away, turning her head with a soft whimper that causes Beca to instantly reach out.

She cups Chloe’s jaw, turning her face towards her so she can see her, and she pauses for a moment to really look at her. The way her eyes glisten and how her lip trembles. Beca’s missed this part of Chloe; the midnight Chloe that looks at her like she’ll never see her again; the Chloe that kisses her back and makes her feel like they could take on the world as long as they’re together.

She slowly moves in, her eyelids feeling way too heavy to hold open.

Chloe moves away at the last minute, her hand coming up to hold onto Beca’s as she shakes her head and lets the tears fall. She holds Beca’s hand tightly, pulling it away from her face and dropping it into her lap.

The way her fingers press firmly into her skin sends a chill down Beca’s spine.

“Do you know how long I waited for you?” Chloe rasps, her lip trembling as she looks up at the ceiling to try and stop any more tears from falling. _“God,_ Beca, I drove myself fucking crazy waiting for you to love me.” 

The pain in her eyes is so clear as she looks at Beca. She instantly turns her hand over to thread her fingers through Chloe’s, bringing her other hand down to hold onto it tightly. She lifts it up to her mouth, pressing a kiss against Chloe’s knuckle.

“I _do_ _—”_

“Don’t,” Chloe interrupts quickly, her eyes closing tightly as she pulls her hand away from Beca’s mouth. But Beca’s grip is firm, not wanting to let Chloe pull away from her just yet; relishing every single second that she gets to touch her before she’ll inevitably pull away. “You can’t say that to me, not when I’m—when I’m _engaged.”_

“You’re not, though,” she murmurs, teeth clenched to try and stop herself from giving into her emotions, though she knows there’s no use anymore. “You didn’t say yes.”

Beca watches her, fresh tears running in tracks down her cheeks as she holds tightly onto her hand, willing Chloe not to leave her; wordlessly begging for her to let her show her just how much she _needs_ her.

“Bec.”

“There’s _got_ to be a reason you didn’t say yes, Chloe.”

“You can’t do this,” Chloe shakes her head. “You just—you _can’t._ It’s too late.”

“Don’t say that,” she cries. Chloe shakes her head again; constantly shakes it until Beca’s sure that she’s going to get dizzy. She wants to reach out to hold her, but she’s terrified that she’ll never be able to let go. “I _miss_ you, Chloe.”

“Let go of me.” Chloe demands, but the soft, heartbroken tone of her voice gives her away completely. She pries her hand out of Beca’s grip, moving back until there’s a gap between them and they’re no longer touching.

Beca’s grits out a soft, pathetic “fuck,” her voice shaking as she cries, though she still lets Chloe go; a small part of her hoping, _praying_ that Chloe will change her mind and come back to her.

The finality in Chloe’s voice as she tells Beca that she has to leave, and the way she stands up—how she doesn’t even put her shoes on properly before she’s slamming the door—brings the whole room crashing down on top of Beca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoy my writing, please follow me on [tumblr.](http://bechloehuh.tumblr.com/) also, shoutout to [ellie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm) for proofreading this (and yelling at me.) ihy.


	2. i never meant to hurt you like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big big big thanks to [ellie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm) for proofreading this and making the [gifs](https://bechloehuh.tumblr.com/post/616955088904306688/well-be-a-fine-line-well-be-alright-summary) to go with it.

_“when we met, i wasn't me / i was so numb, yeah, i was so lonely / out on the run, i wasn't free / and you came along, but you couldn't save me / my hesitation and holdin' my breath / i led you into the garden of my loneliness / wished that you left before it all burned down / oh, julia / i'm sorry what i do to ya / i push and pull and mess with your head / then get in your bed 'cause i'm weak deep down / oh, julia / i wish I never lied to ya.”_  
— julia, lauv

* * *

**_ 2013 _ **

It’s the alcohol that does it, really.

That’s what Beca tells herself, at least, when she feels herself being pushed up against the wall of the Treblemakers’ house and all she can see is Chloe; Chloe’s disgustingly blue eyes that Beca slowly, steadily feels herself drowning in; her hair, bright and wavy like fire searing her eyelids; her face, so close that she feels like she can’t breathe.

She guesses it’s now a recurring thing, seeing Chloe so up close and personal, and she’s not sure how she feels about it. She can still remember how she had looked at Beca that day in the shower last year, begging her to sing for her, smiling at her afterwards in a way that made Beca’s palms sweaty despite the chill in the shower room. It’s the same look Chloe gave her at hood night, pulling her towards her by her wrists, her face so close that Beca could smell the alcohol on her breath. 

_‘I’m so glad that I met you’_ she had whispered, leaning in until Beca was _so_ sure Chloe was going to kiss her. She thought it was a ridiculous thought at the time —of _course_ Chloe Beale wasn’t going to _kiss_ her—but now she’s not so sure. It’s been a few months but the feeling is still there, taunting her, telling her that Chloe does want to kiss her and _God,_ she wants to kiss her too; has done for months now.

Their faces are just as close now as they were back then, if not closer, and Chloe is leaning into her like they do this all the time—they do not—and Beca has never felt so terrified to be in the presence of another human being in her entire life, despite the fact that they’re technically friends now.

Chloe’s forehead presses against her own, her body drunkenly draping over Beca’s and leaving her with no other choice but to lean her back against the wall to be able to hold her up.

“You’re kinda close,” she laughs, the alcohol in her own system making her a lot less nervous than she would be if she was sober. 

Chloe ignores her, nuzzling closer to Beca and wrapping her arms around her waist. She turns her head, brushing her lips over Beca’s cheek for less than a second before she buries her head in between Beca’s neck and shoulder, hugging her so tight that Beca starts to worry that she’ll suffocate her.

“You smell nice,” Chloe murmurs into her skin, her breath hot against Beca’s neck. It sends a jolt through Beca, enough to shock her hands into actually working again, and she lifts them up to grip Chloe’s shoulders.

She tugs on them, pulling Chloe away from her and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach when Chloe pouts at her.

“What?” Chloe asks, her tone petulant and _almost_ adorable enough to make Beca cave.

Only, Chloe doesn’t really move away like Beca had hoped she would—like she had hinted at her to do. It takes Beca pushing at her shoulders hard enough for Chloe to stumble backwards a little for her to finally let go of her.

Weirdly, Beca instantly misses the contact, but she blames that on the alcohol and the fact that she hasn’t really hugged a human being in years, and _not_ because she likes the feeling of Chloe’s body against hers.

Her parents’ voices make themselves known in the forefront of her mind, echoing loudly as they chastise her for looking at Chloe too long.

She looks down at the ground, pushing herself off of the wall.

“It’s getting late—” Chloe cuts her off with another tight hug, this time throwing her arms around her neck, and Beca’s heart slams against her ribcage, begging to be the one to be held by Chloe. She lifts her hands up to Chloe’s hips, resting them there as she decides what to do with them as she whispers Chloe’s name.

Her hands smooth up underneath Chloe’s jacket, her thin t-shirt being the only barrier between her hands and Chloe’s skin. The thought makes her suck in a deep breath, and she’s about to push back again when she hears Chloe’s breath hitch at the sensation of her thumbs swiping against Chloe’s ribs.

She gulps, turning her head to the side and sighing when her lips come into contact with Chloe’s hairline. She smells good too, and Beca can’t help but breathe her in for a moment before her brain starts to tell her that this is _weird._

“Chloe,” she repeats.

The arms around her shoulders loosen enough for Chloe to pull back slightly, until she’s looking at Beca like she was earlier; like she’s going to kiss her.

Only this time, Beca doesn’t feel the sudden urge to pull away, or make a joke about how Chloe’s had one too many to drink. She knows that she’s probably had more than Chloe, thanks to the tequila shots that Stacie—and another treble that Beca’s forgotten the name of now—made her do when the _‘we’re almost graduating!’_ party began.

(She can’t help but think, for a moment, how happy she is that Chloe isn’t graduating with the rest of them, and she’s not sure why.)

She distinctly remembers playing beer pong and flip cup by Chloe’s side, hugging her and celebrating with her like they’ve known each other their whole lives and _not,_ technically, less than a year.

And the woman in front of her now still makes her feel that strange feeling of familiarity that she felt when the night began, or maybe it was even before tonight; making her feel like she can be herself and not have to hide behind the walls that she’s spent years building up around herself.

“What?” Chloe asks her, and it takes Beca a few seconds to remember that she had said Chloe’s name.

“Um.” She inhales quickly, struggling to breathe properly due to the close proximity to Chloe and the shiver that runs down her spine because Chloe’s hands are fucking _cold._ Her fingertips stroke over the back of her neck and Beca’s grip on Chloe tightens reflexively, the pads of her fingers pressing into her side and pulling a soft exhale from her.

Beca can feel it against her mouth.

Her gaze drops to Chloe’s parted lips, and her mouth suddenly feels insanely dry, so much so that it almost hurts to swallow.

The shift is so sudden and tumultuous that Beca doesn’t even get a chance to voice her concerns for _‘maybe we shouldn’t do this here’_ before Chloe’s head is tilting and she’s capturing Beca’s lips with her own.

The voice nagging at the back of her head—the voice telling her to stop before anybody finds them; telling her to get her hands off of Chloe right now—fades into nothing but a dull ache, and her mouth is quickly parting to let Chloe’s tongue slip past her lips.

She grips Chloe’s waist, pulling her into her instead of pushing her away, and the whimper Chloe releases into her mouth almost makes her knees buckle beneath her.

She lifts one hand up to cup Chloe’s face, stroking the pad of her thumb across her jaw before she slowly pulls her head back, and she can’t help but smile when she watches Chloe’s mouth chase hers.

And maybe it’s the dim lighting or the fact that she’s drunk, but Chloe’s eyes are dilated and hooded and the look she’s giving Beca is almost enough to make her lean in and kiss her again.

It shocks her that she _wants_ to kiss Chloe again; so, _so_ badly.

“Why’d you stop?” Chloe asks her. Beca’s mouth parts to answer but she stops when she realizes that she doesn’t know. 

She tucks Chloe’s hair behind her ear, her gaze dropping to her lips again.

When Chloe asks her to come back to her place with her, the voice in her head telling her not to is suddenly non-existent.

* * *

The reality of the situation sets in when she wakes up.

The arm draping over her waist is way too heavy against her, weighing her down until she feels like she can’t breathe. She wakes Chloe up as she pulls away, though she doesn’t actually notice until, in the middle of slipping her shirt back on over her head, Chloe turns over and sleepily asks her what time it is.

“Um,” she looks at her for a moment, trying not to notice how beautiful she looks despite just waking up. She turns away from her before she can focus too much on it. “I don’t know.”

She feels the bed shift behind her. She tries not to look at Chloe as she gets dressed, admittedly a little quicker than actually necessary, but she can’t help but pause her actions for a moment to turn around, just once, in favor of seeing what Chloe is doing.

Chloe doesn’t look at her as she leans down to pick her shirt up and Beca, doing up the buttons on her shirt, spends the two seconds it takes for Chloe to do that staring at her bare skin before it gets covered.

They get dressed facing away from each other.

Last night, Beca would’ve never thought this is where they’d end up, though she’s not sure if she would’ve survived waking up to Chloe cuddling her and kissing her and telling her how much, if at all, she likes her.

It’s confusing, especially because her thoughts are so conflicting and messed up. On one hand, she wouldn’t trade anything for last night. On the other, her heart stings at the thought of anybody finding out about them.

“So,” Chloe starts, and Beca turns from where she had been standing awkwardly, looking around the room as she waited for Chloe to put some clothes on. “Last night…”

Beca suspects Chloe is hoping for Beca to finish the rest of the sentence but she’s lost. She can’t think of anything other than _‘was a mistake’_ or _‘shouldn’t have happened.’_

She crosses her arms over herself protectively, clenching her jaw as she avoids eye contact with Chloe.

“I had fun,” Chloe tells her. “But judging by how you can’t even look me in the eye, I don’t think—”

“I had fun,” Beca blurts out, interrupting her. “I just… don’t think it should…”

“Happen again?” Chloe finishes for her.

Beca can only nod.

Chloe returns it with a much friendlier smile than Beca can manage. The hint of disappointment she thought she saw in Chloe’s eyes is definitely, she convinces herself, a figment of her imagination.

“I’m sorry,” Beca tells her, weakly. “I’m not…”

She’d love to actually be able to get a full sentence out, but she thinks Chloe understands. Or maybe she’s just hoping that the friendly smile on Chloe’s face is her understanding, because she’d rather not say it out loud.

Chloe doesn’t ask any more questions.

* * *

**_2015_ **

Beca’s sure that this never would have happened if she was just a little more in control of her impulses when she’s drunk.

But there’s something about Chloe that makes Beca’s lungs ache at the thought of saying no to her. It’s in the way she looks at Beca like she’s trying to look into her soul, her gaze intense and unfiltered. It’s the way she touches her; the way she always has to have her hands on her, almost as if Beca is keeping her anchored and if she lets go she’ll float away. It’s the small smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth whenever Beca looks at her, and Beca can’t help _but_ look.

She’s beautiful. Beautiful in a way that makes Beca’s head spin, even without the addition of alcohol.

But that’s what she tells herself when she falls into Chloe’s bed, the room spinning faster than it had been when she had been standing up just moments prior; they’re both drunk and this is exactly what college is _for._

This is exactly what Chloe had wanted when she told Beca that she wishes that she’d experimented more.

Jesse’s words echo in her brain, telling her that he’ll never come close to the way Chloe makes her feel and that she should just _go for it._

Only, Beca has no idea what she’s supposed to do with that. Chloe is her _friend,_ and Beca _can’t_ like her like that. She’s spent so long trying to convince herself that she doesn’t, that it’s too hard to suddenly push that away and accept the fact that she _does,_ in fact, like Chloe.

Her pounding heart quickens its pace, the thought of doing this with Chloe again suddenly filling all of her senses as she lays back against Chloe’s pillow, in the house that they’ve both called home for the past three years. The house that stands just across the lake from where the rest of the Bellas and their other acapella friends are partying; a party that the two of them had left immediately when Chloe had drunkenly whispered how much she meant what she said at the retreat.

Chloe moves to straddle her. They had helped each other out of their jeans ten minutes ago but are both yet to remove anything else. Chloe, of course, takes the lead like she has done the entire evening; their entire _friendship._

Her hands come down to cross over her midsection, gripping the bottom of her shirt and pulling it up over her head. She discards it somewhere beside them, though Beca isn’t paying attention to a mundane task such as throwing clothes on the floor. Her eyes are locked on Chloe; on the perfect woman above her that probably has no idea how much she’s internally freaking out.

She takes a breath before sitting up, holding her hand against Chloe’s bare stomach. The contact makes Chloe gasp, and she looks down at Beca with a drunken smile.

“Your hands are so cold.”

Beca thinks about saying something dumb and cliché like “well, let’s warm them up” but she’s suddenly rendered speechless by Chloe reaching behind herself to unfasten her bra. She lets out a breath as Chloe pulls the material away and drops it to the floor. And she’s seen Chloe naked before but it’s still a shock to her that she’s even real, and that someone like Chloe would _ever_ want to do this with someone like her.

“Jesus.”

Chloe laughs and it’s almost enough to calm Beca’s nerves.

“Is this okay?”

She tears her eyes away from Chloe’s body to look her in the eyes, and she’s immediately nodding her head yes, _yes this is definitely okay,_ and all at once, Chloe is right there again; kissing her, filling up her senses, touching her like she has no idea how fucking _thrilling_ this is for Beca.

Her head falls back against the pillow as Chloe, half naked and drunk and so very beautiful, starts to slowly make her way down her body. Her shirt gets pushed at, bunched up until Chloe can reach up and run her hand over her breast. The action, along with Chloe’s lips kissing their way down her stomach, immediately pulls a soft moan from her. She’s messy and uncoordinated but she still knows exactly how to make Beca feel good, and Beca doesn’t want to think about _how._

Her underwear is being pulled down slowly, and she quickly reaches down to push at them to try and hurry Chloe along, already so desperate and ready for Chloe to touch her. She’s missed feeling Chloe like this, _so_ fucking much, though she’ll never admit it out loud. Instead, she lets Chloe lead the way, like she always does; lets her open her legs for her and lean in to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh and whisper how much she _loves_ how wet Beca is for her.

All Beca can do is lie back against the pillow, stretching her head back and reaching up to press her hand flat against the headboard as her hips buck up against Chloe’s mouth. Her breath is hot against her and the anticipation alone is enough to render Beca speechless when she finally feels Chloe’s mouth on her.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ she moans out, squeezing her eyes shut so tight that she starts to see stars. She’s already breathless, already panting and rolling her hips into Chloe’s mouth as she closes her mouth around her clit.

Her throat tightens at the intensity of it, of how good Chloe is at this. She gasps as a finger comes up to join Chloe’s mouth, slowly pushing inside of her as her other hand squeezes her breast. A thumb brushes across her nipple and Beca curses the fact that she still has her shirt and bra on. 

She pushes herself up onto her elbows, looking down at Chloe. And she wants to ask Chloe to stop for a moment so she can take her shirt off, but her words get caught in her throat and Chloe doesn’t stop.

Their eyes lock and Beca’s heart clenches.

She reaches down to run her hand through Chloe’s hair, scraping her nails across her scalp. The gesture causes Chloe to whimper against her as her hand—the one not fucking her—slowly runs down her stomach and over her hips until she can lift Beca’s hips up slightly.

Beca’s head lolls back and she swallows thickly, feeling the strain in her neck as her eyes close and she collapses back down against the pillow again, unable to care about her shirt and bra anymore. It’s incredibly difficult to care about anything but Chloe’s mouth and fingers on her, _fucking_ her and pulling sounds from her that nobody has ever been able to do before.

(She takes a brief moment to think about Jesse. As much as she does _not_ want to think about her ex boyfriend right now, part of her feels sorry that he was never able to pull this kind of reaction from her.)

Chloe’s fingers dig into her hips, tongue licking into her so expertly and smoothly as she slowly pulls her fingers from inside of her and instead flattens her hand against her stomach. She stretches her thumb out to rub tight circles against her clit, licking up into Beca with enough expertise and precision to make Beca see stars.

It felt so much better before, though, and she quickly lifts her head again to look down at Chloe.

Chloe, who is pulling her head back and looking down at her instead, watching the way she clenches and aches, desperate to have her inside again.

“Chloe,” she moans. She pushes at Chloe’s head to try and get her to put her mouth on her again, but she doesn’t budge; just keeps watching her as she circles her clit, and Beca knows it’s not enough to get her there.

She throws her head back again, this time in frustration, and brings her hands up to run through her hair, pulling it slightly.

“Please,” she whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut.

She’s panting and breathless and very aware of how pathetic she probably sounds, but Chloe is _killing_ her here.

“You’re so fucking hot, Bec.”

She feels Chloe’s words against her and she rolls her hips up, wordlessly begging Chloe to fuck her again, and not just brush her thumb against her like she is doing now. But before she can actually ask that—and she was so, so close to asking—she feels Chloe start to crawl her way up her body until she’s hovering over Beca, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Beca’s eyes open at the soft gesture, her hands instinctively coming up to cup Chloe’s face.

“Why’d you stop?”

Chloe smiles at her gently, and Beca gasps when she feels Chloe’s finger glide through her folds once again. It pulls a loud moan from her, a quick gasp as her back arches and she feels herself getting closer. 

This time, when Chloe slides two fingers inside, she doesn’t stop.

“I want to watch you,” she whispers, just before she tilts her head and captures Beca’s lips in another searing kiss. It’s enough to make Beca’s arms feel weak, and they let go of Chloe’s face and fall limp onto the bed beside her as she lies back and lets Chloe fuck her.

Chloe pulls back from the kiss and Beca doesn’t even need to open her eyes to know that Chloe is doing exactly what she said; watching her, waiting with bated breath for Beca’s inevitable release that’s happening way faster than she had expected.

“Go, um—oh, _fuck,”_ she breathes out, one hand clenching in the sheet beneath her as the other comes up to grip Chloe’s arm.

“What do you want?”

“Deeper.” Her teeth clench, eyes squeezed shut. She feels a kiss being pressed against her cheek again, but this time Chloe doesn’t pull away.

“Like this?” She rasps, breath hot and heavy against her cheek, and Beca’s hand instantly squeezes Chloe’s arm as she feels Chloe push in deeper.

She stretches around Chloe’s fingers; her pace quickens and the sounds of them pushing in and out of her make Beca’s stomach tighten, makes her feel so much more than she had felt just moments prior. 

Chloe’s parted lips rest against Beca’s cheeks, whispering “come for me,” and Beca is gone.

White explodes behind her eyes and she comes hard, clenching tightly around Chloe’s fingers, hips bucking against her as she stretches her head back with choked out gasps. Her hand tightens against Chloe’s arm, holding her there, keeping her fingers inside of her while she twitches and pulses her way through her orgasm.

Chloe trails kisses down Beca’s cheek, across her jaw and down her neck, until she’s burying her head in her shoulder. Her fingers are still moving against Beca, making her twitch and gasp, until Beca loosens her hold on her arm and moves it away with a soft, spent whimper.

Chloe’s head buried in her neck takes her all the way back to that party in her freshman year, back to the first night they ever slept together. Even after all this time, Beca still finds that she feels the same ounce of regret and heartbreak as that first night; still feels like this was wrong, in some way, and that there was no reason for them to ruin their friendship like this.

Only, Beca’s not sure it has ruined their friendship. At this point, she’s not sure _anything_ could.

Maybe that’s what scares her the most.

* * *

She doesn’t wait until the morning to leave this time.

As much as she hates herself for it, she waits until Chloe has fallen asleep before she gathers her clothes and makes her way back to her own room in the attic. Amy isn’t snoring in her bed, so she assumes she’s out with Bumper, but she doesn’t stop to think about it too long lest she imagine things that she does not want to imagine, not after the—admittedly _very_ good—night she’s had.

She falls asleep with her music blasting in her ears, ignoring the voice telling her how much of an idiot she is for leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoy my writing, please follow me on [tumblr](http://bechloehuh.tumblr.com/)


	3. can i make it back to your heart?

_ “i could notice all the lines / and i'd only go insane / i could love you all the time / i'm not always gonna say / still i don't wanna feel it without you / don't wanna feel it with no one else / give me your fire, give me your rain / give me a little love from you / i can fan a fire / i can keep it from burning away / but what's it gonna take to stop the silence? / i could live as a liar / say that i'm turning away / but giving up won't give up desire.” _   
— give me your fire, give me your rain, the paper kites

* * *

**_ Present _ **

It takes a while for Beca to get up off of the floor; the sound of the door slamming still ricocheting in her mind.

She stumbles as she gets up, leaning down to open her laptop up so she can use the light from it to see where she’s going, since the lights are off and her drunk-brain is currently not friends with her eyes. The song that had been playing before she closed it starts up again and although it isn’t on full volume, it’s deafening in the otherwise silent apartment. The sound of the slow Taylor Swift song is making her think about Chloe and right now, she doesn’t want to  _ think. _ Not just about Chloe but about  _ anything. _

She pauses the song and exits out of Spotify. The  _ ‘Chloe’ _ folder on her desktop stares back at her and she’s overwhelmed by the impulsive feeling of wanting to delete all of the files from it. She resists, though, because she may be an idiot but she’s not  _ that  _ much of an idiot. 

The feeling is still there nonetheless, and it breaks her heart that she could  _ ever  _ think of just deleting any semblance of Chloe from her life.

Her hands shake as she picks up the glasses so she can empty them into the sink, stopping for a moment to look at Chloe’s; at the hint of pink lipstick on the end of the straw and the melting ice cubes floating at the top. She wonders if that pink lipstick is now on her lips, and she instinctively licks them.

_ No. _

She presses her lips together, refusing to think about what had happened as she takes the glasses over to the sink, momentarily stopping on the way to turn the light on. She groans to herself at the bright light, her head already starting to ache due to the mixture of alcohol, crying, and her own brain screaming at her for what she’s done.

Still, she mentally tells herself to stop, stop,  _ stop  _ thinking about it.

Her hands stretch out to rest on the counter at each side of the sink and she leans forward, sighing, trying to focus on keeping her breathing in check and the contents of her stomach down. It only makes it worse when she closes her eyes, so she opens them, blinking a few times as she looks down at the two glasses.

She clenches her fists, her jaw jutting out as she stares at Chloe’s glass.

The glass that Chloe had clinked against her own before asking her the question that started all of the mess that had transpired, until she was leaving Beca alone in her apartment once again.

It’s being thrown across the room within seconds, shattering against the wall and instantly shocking Beca by how loud it is; by how fast it happens. She stares at the remnants of the glass on the floor for a moment, her breathing heavy, and she starts to feel her nose sting with the urge to cry again.

She sighs, cursing at herself and begrudgingly fetching the brush to sweep the mess up. She might hate herself tonight, but she does  _ not  _ want sober-Beca to forget about it and accidentally cut herself tomorrow.

She takes a shower afterwards to try and wash Chloe’s scent off of her. She cleans up her apartment to make it look like nobody was here, opens up her mixing software to clear her mind, drinks a couple of bottles of water to sober herself up.

Ultimately, nothing really works.

And she can’t stop thinking about Chloe’s lips on hers. The way she kissed her back. How she had looked at Beca when she pulled away; her eyes, so glassy and tired but so full of something that Beca’s too scared to even think about; her hands, trembling against the bare skin on Beca’s knee; her cheeks, flushed pink and warm under Beca’s touch. Beca recalls her gaze, unwavering and fixed on Beca’s lips before a soft whimper escaped and she painfully tore her eyes away and started to cry.

Beca’s stomach drops the more she thinks about it. She never wanted to take advantage of Chloe but it feels like she has. Although she knows Chloe kissed her back and that she gave her a chance to stop, there’s still a part of her that wonders if she had pressured Chloe into it; wonders if she gave Chloe no other choice.

She shakes her head, scraping her nails through her hair and closing her eyes. She can’t keep thinking about it. She’s been here so many times before and she knows, from experience, that the more she thinks about it, the worse she’ll feel.

Her shoulders drop with a huff as she stares at the screen in front of her.

She’s opening up the folder before she can even try to talk herself out of it.

There are a few word documents, named accordingly to the dates that they were created, and a few dozen pictures. She moves her cursor over to the first document that was written all the way back in 2013. Even through the drunken haze in her mind, she can distinctly remember the exact day she wrote it.

**_test of my patience_ ** **_  
_ ** **_there's things that we'll never know_ ** **_  
_ ** **_you sunshine, you temptress_ ** **_  
_ ** **_my hand's at risk, i fold_ **

It’s unfinished and reading over it now makes Beca cringe, but they’re her feelings. They’re put into words and Beca praises her younger self for being able to write something so coherent after the night she had spent with Chloe.

Chloe’s body against hers.

Chloe’s lips at her neck.

Fingers dancing up her spine.

“Fuck,” she grits out, bringing her palms up to cover her eyes, pressing down hard enough to see stars and swirls and lines behind her eyelids. She’s already cried enough tonight —enough to make her almost hate herself for being so weak and pathetic over something she can’t control—and she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to stop if she starts again now.

She closes the word document, bringing her cursor over it again. She right-clicks on it, moves her cursor to hover over  _ delete, _ and sighs.

Her phone vibrates on the desk and she jumps, startled by the sudden loud noise in the quiet room. She immediately picks it up, though she can’t help but to be disappointed when she sees that it’s a spam email, and not a text from the only person she desperately wants to talk to right now.

She puts her phone back down beside her laptop and moves the cursor away from the delete button, instead choosing to click on one of the photos.

It’s a picture of the Bellas in their gowns. She can remember yelling at Amy to hurry up, otherwise they’ll take the photo without her; remembers Emily taking the photo and she recalls—so clearly, like it’s happening right now in front of her—Chloe’s arms wrapped tightly around her, fingertips pressing into her hip and keeping her in place.

Her eyes drift to that same spot in the photo, noticing how Chloe is holding onto her hip, with her other arm wrapped around Beca’s middle. Beca isn’t returning the hug in the photo, but she distinctly recalls turning into Chloe and hugging her once the photo was taken, breathing her in and grinning so hard as she told her how proud she was of her for  _ finally  _ graduating.

As soon as her bottom lip starts to tremble, she exits out of the photo and closes the folder altogether, shutting her laptop with a lot less force than she had done earlier.

And as much as she doesn’t want to go to bed, because she knows she’ll only end up dreaming about Chloe, she can barely keep her eyes open. She knows she’ll feel the immediate regret tomorrow when she wakes up, but she picks her phone up and takes it into bed with her, opening the messages app and bringing up her text thread with Chloe.

_ please come back… _

She shakes her head, holding backspace until the message is gone.

_ i know i fucked up. _

_ i love you. _

_ i need you. _

Part of her, the almost-sober part, tries to talk herself out of sending a text altogether, but in the end, the drunk part of her wins.

**[3:12AM] Beca:**   
i'm so sorry chloe.

She’s pressing send before she can even think twice about it.  She weighs the pros and cons of following it up with an  _ i love you  _ but the cons win by a landslide.

Eventually, she falls asleep with her phone in her hand, waiting for Chloe’s response.

* * *

If it wasn’t for the jostling of the sheets and the tapping on her shoulder, Chloe would forgo opening her eyes to instead sleep through whatever it is that’s going on around her. She already woke up a few hours ago with a pounding headache and she had quickly, without much thought to it, decided that today is going to be a  _ ‘stay in bed until noon’ _ type of day. 

But the jostling and tapping continues and she eventually opens her eyes, squinting through the light shining through the open curtains to see Chicago smiling down at her.

“Morning sleepyhead,” he says, and she watches him move off of the bed to reach over for something out of Chloe’s line of sight. 

She groans, turning onto her back before sitting up, yawning and stretching her arms out in front of her and then dropping them to her sides. 

There’s still a hint of a headache gnawing at the back of her head but she tries to ignore it as best as she can, as she stretches her neck to look around Chicago to see what he’s doing.

He turns around to reveal a tray of food and Chloe’s heart sinks.

Her mouth parts slightly, though no words come out. He’s watching her with a charming smile, something that he knows is one of Chloe’s favorite things about him. Only, it doesn’t bring her mood up like it usually does. It doesn’t make her momentarily forget about everything bad in the world; doesn’t make her want to lean up and kiss him a million times until she forgets everything else she’s ever known.

The memories of last night hit her like a freight train and when she looks at him, her heart clenches in her chest, her stomach suddenly aching with the desire to just blurt everything out; to tell him what he deserves to know.

Only, Chloe’s not sure that’s the only reason. She thinks, maybe, part of her wants to tell him for her own sake, because she knows what guilt does to a person and she knows that she won’t be able to live with herself if she doesn’t tell him.

The smile on his face slowly turns into a frown the longer he waits, until eventually he’s placing the tray back onto the floor beside the bed and turning to face her fully.

“You okay, Chloe?”

And the way he says her name only makes Chloe’s head hurt more, because she doesn’t deserve his soft and gentle tone, nor the comforting hand that he puts on her arm. His thumb strokes her skin and she lets out a shaky sigh.

“I’m fine,” she whispers, her throat tight with the emotions she’s bottled up since she arrived home last night. “Just a little hungover.”

She thinks he’s about to mention something about Beca, maybe make a joke about how she’s a bad influence, or tell her that she needs to keep count of her drinks because he knows she and Beca has a tendency to get carried away.

And Chloe misses that so much.

_ God, _ she misses staying up late with Beca and talking about everything; from how the universe was formed to whether dinosaurs existed, to telling each other about their favorite songs and what they mean to them. She misses staying up late with her in college, the two of them doing their own thing and just existing together. She misses waking up beside Beca in their tiny apartment, making her breakfast before work and kissing her on the cheek after a long day and, okay, sure they weren’t dating, exactly, but they were  _ something; _ they were something more than they are right now and Chloe misses it so much.

Most of all, though, she misses herself; who she was whenever Beca was around. The Chloe that wasn’t  _ afraid  _ all the time, the Chloe that could hug and kiss Beca without thinking twice about it, the Chloe that got the parts of Beca that she would never dream of sharing with anybody else.

Knowing what they’ve turned into over the past few years, after everything they’ve been through, breaks her heart more than any of her past romances ever have.

So she’s ready for Chicago to mention Beca first, just so she can hear her name coming from somebody’s mouth but her own. She waits for him to jokingly tell her that he knew she’d end up getting too drunk because they have a tendency to do that —because he  _ knows  _ them—just so she can finally cave and tell him everything.

But he just smiles at her, so gentle and kind, and Chloe sighs. Her fingers tremble against the sheets and she ignores the worried look he gives her.

Taking a deep breath, she puts on a smile.

“What did you make me?”

He returns her smile, picking the tray of food up and presenting it to her.

“Pancakes, fruit, coffee…”

* * *

She falls asleep again after having some food.

As much as she hates lying to Chicago —which is funny, really—she tells him that she’s not feeling good and she’s tired. Which isn’t  _ that  _ far from the truth, really, but it’s not the only reason.

No, she mostly just hates seeing the expectant look on his face. Although he doesn’t ask her again, she knows he’s waiting for her answer. She knows that he’s being patient and loving, like he always is, but she  _ knows  _ him; she knows that he wants her to say yes or no so he can stop overthinking about it.

But she’s so tired and scared and confused; the only thing she can do is try and sleep it off, to have a little more time to figure out what she wants.

It’s only when she wakes up for the third time that day, at two in the afternoon, that she sees last night’s text from Beca.

Her heart sinks in her chest as she reads over it and she instantly knows that Beca is waiting around for her to respond. She hates leaving Beca hanging,  _ hates  _ ignoring her, because she knows that Beca will think she has done something wrong and kick herself over it.

Which, in all honesty, she kind of  _ has, _ but Chloe is just as much to blame as she is—it wouldn’t be fair to blame this entirely on Beca.

Still, she’s not quite sure what to say to the apology. She’s not even sure what Beca is saying sorry  _ for. _ Her heart aches at the idea of her apologizing because she regrets it, which Chloe knows is messed up. She shouldn’t be feeling  _ sorry  _ for her; she should be calling her out for putting her in that situation when she was drunk. She should be angry at her for kissing her when she knows Chloe is with somebody else. She should be infuriated that Beca is two years too late.

But, Chloe thinks, maybe she isn’t. Because her feelings are still there, still so present in her mind, overtaking her thoughts so much that she knows now, the love she once felt for Chicago is—and probably always will be; always has been—a step below her love for Beca.

She unlocks her phone, her thumbs ready to type out a response to Beca but they stop when she notices that they’re trembling. Instead, she scrolls up to their earlier texts, until she’s looking at a selfie that Beca had sent her a few days ago.

There are tears in her eyes immediately and her stomach rolls, the butterflies she has always felt whenever she looks at Beca making themselves known; so much more intense than they have ever been. She sighs, breathing in slowly, trying to quell the feeling that Beca’s presence sends through her. 

_ I’m sorry too, _ she types out.

Her eyes close and she shakes her head, biting her lip when she feels it start to quiver. As mad as she is at the whole situation, she knows that she’ll never love Chicago as much as she does Beca.

With a sigh, she deletes the message and locks her phone before placing it back on the nightstand. Her legs feel weak as she gets out of bed and she has to stop for a moment to regulate her breathing, before making her way out of the bedroom and into the living room where Chicago is watching TV.

And maybe Chloe knows she’s making the right decision when her breath isn’t taken away from her when she looks at him. Not like it is whenever she looks at, or even thinks about, Beca.

As much as she’d like to avoid this for as long as possible, she knows it’s unfair to him. She’s only ever wanted to be the best for him and right now, she feels like the worst person in the entire world.

She clenches her jaw as she sits down beside him, returning his warm smile with a soft smile of her own. She notes that he doesn’t immediately notice that there’s something wrong; something that she knows Beca would know straight away. She doesn’t like comparing them but she can’t really help it, but she doesn’t want to fall down that rabbit hole right now. Instead, she turns towards him, lifting her leg up onto the couch to get comfy.

“Hey,” she whispers. Her voice is a little hoarse from not speaking much all day, and all the crying she did last night. He picks at his nails, tearing his eyes away from the TV to smile at her again before looking back at it. Chloe clears her throat and picks up the remote, pausing it.

He turns to her, sitting up.

“You okay?” He reaches out, stroking a hand over her thigh. The touch that once made her feel safe and grounded suddenly feels out of place, like it no longer belongs there, and she shakes her head instinctively.

“No, I—” she sucks in a breath, placing her hand over his and squeezing softly before pushing it off of her.

“Is this about yesterday?” He asks, “Because I told you, you don’t have to answer right now, I don’t mind waiting until you’re—”

“It’s not that.”

He watches her, waiting, and puts his hand on her thigh again.

Chloe clenches her jaw and closes her eyes.

“Beca kissed me.”

She feels Chicago pull his hand away and Chloe’s lip trembles as she opens her eyes and looks down at her hands.

“When?” 

“Last night.”

“Jesus.” He breathes out a heavy sigh, and Chloe sees him run a hand through his hair out of the corner of her eye. “Okay, um… Okay.”

She looks up at him, eyes already glazed with unshed tears.

“Okay?”

His jaw clenches, lips pressed tightly together. 

“I mean... What—” he sighs. “What do you want me to say to that?”

She frowns, shaking her head, “I don’t want you to say anything, I just had to tell you.”

“Why did she kiss you?”

Her mouth opens to tell him  _ I don’t know, _ but she stops. She knows exactly why Beca kissed her, and she knows exactly why she had eagerly kissed her back too.

“We were drunk and she—I… I’m sorry.”

“Did you kiss her back?” 

She sucks in a breath, holding it for a second before exhaling it slowly and shakily.

He waits a moment for her to answer and she watches the recognition slowly form on his face.

“Did you  _ want  _ to?”

Her nose stings, her chin trembling as she nods, bringing her hand up to wipe her eyes.

His tongue pokes out against his cheek as he looks away from Chloe. There are tears in his eyes and that alone is enough to make Chloe cry harder. In the two years they’ve been dating, she’s only ever seen Chicago cry twice, and she hates that she’s the one who has done this to him.

“Man,” he laughs, shaking his head, “I don’t know what—” he cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh, and Chloe watches as he stands up off of the couch. Part of her wants to follow him; to apologize and beg for his forgiveness, but the other part of her is telling herself that there’s nothing to forgive.

She was fully capable of making her own decisions and she  _ decided  _ to kiss Beca back. That’s all there is to it. She wasn’t forced to, she  _ wanted  _ to kiss her. She had missed the feeling of Beca’s lips against her own, had been craving them for so long, and she hates herself more for the fact that it took everything in her to pull away from her; to leave Beca on her own when all she wanted to do was stay with her.

It frustrates her more that all she can think about is how  _ right  _ it felt.

And she’s not about to leave Chicago for Beca, but she cannot continue to be with him when she has feelings for somebody else; she knows it’s not fair to either of them, especially not him.

She wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her pyjama top, her heart immediately aching when she hears Chicago let out a whimpering cry.

She gets up off of the couch and makes her way over to him, reaching out for his arm, a little surprised when he doesn’t move away. She hesitates for a moment before she pulls him towards her. His eyes are bloodshot, filled with tears, and she reaches up to cup his face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, though she’s not exactly sure which part she’s sorry about most. The fact that she kissed Beca, or that she doesn’t regret it one bit.

“I don’t get it,” he sighs. “If you don’t want to be with me, why didn’t you just—?”

She shakes her head, cupping his face and pulling him closer. He seems to give in for a second, before he pulls back and moves Chloe’s hands from his face. He takes a step back, shaking his head.

“I love you,” he tells her, and she’s about to say it back before she stops herself, pressing her lips together and wiping her eyes. Chicago shakes his head with a laugh. “You can’t even say it back.”

“I’m sorry.”

_ “Fuck,  _ Chloe. I accepted the fact that I was always gonna come second to her, but I didn’t think…”

_ Didn’t think you’d cheat on me, _ Chloe thinks he means. The thought weighs down on her heart, almost enough to bring her to her knees.

He covers his face with his hands, turning away from her. All she can do is stay rooted to the spot, helpless to do anything but let him end them.

He tells her that he’s sorry, and it hurts her almost as much as the look on his face does when he tells her that she should probably leave. She understands, but it still stings to know that this is it—that she has managed to ruin their relationship so fast.

She packs as much of her stuff as she can in one bag but ultimately, she knows she’s going to end up seeing him again for the rest of her stuff.

She tells herself that she deserves the disdainful look he gives her when she stands at the door of their apartment—the apartment that has always belonged to him—and waits. She’s not sure what she’s waiting for, maybe one last kiss or hug goodbye, but whatever it is doesn’t come.

It’s only when she’s outside of the building and standing by her car that she remembers that she still hasn’t texted Beca back. The thought of it instantly brings up a flare of anger inside of her, her jaw clenching as she gets the urge to throw her phone against the nearest wall. She ignores the rage she feels building up inside of her, though, and instead unlocks her car, throwing her bag into the passenger seat before climbing in.

Her heart is pounding and she stops for a minute to collect herself, clenching the steering wheel tightly until it eventually starts to ache.

She doesn’t text Beca back.

She already knows where her heart is going to lead her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoy my writing, please follow me on [tumblr](http://bechloehuh.tumblr.com/)


	4. can i lean on you?

_ “bad habit, i know / but I'm needin' you right now / can you help me out? / can I lean on you? / been one of those days / sun don't wanna come out / can you help me out? can I lean on you? / you make me feel like i'm floatin' off the ground / above this little town, you do / look at me smile with tears in my eyes / i love the way you lie, i do / hate to say that i'm lonely / hate to say that i miss you / hate to say that it's dark in here / but it's true.” _   
— bad habit, ben platt

* * *

For as long as Chloe has known Beca, she has always been her person.

Whenever she’s upset, frustrated or even happy, she’s always been there to listen to Chloe. Whether she’s angrily ranting about how much she hates whatever acapella rivals they’re facing that month, excitedly telling Beca that she landed a job interview, or annoyed at the fact that she has finally finished the TV show she’s been binging for the past week and feels like her life no longer has meaning. 

And the same goes for Beca. Chloe has always been there; a shoulder to cry on—though, it has only happened a handful of times and  _ God, _ Chloe hated every second of it—the person Beca used to look forward to coming home to; the person that Beca would deem the only exception to any of her rules.

She was there for Beca when she and Jesse broke up. She was there for her on her first day at BFD, and there for her after  _ quitting  _ BFD. Through everything, they’ve just been  _ there; _ they’ve been _ them _ —Beca and Chloe.

Beca has always been her best friend, above everything else, and Chloe can’t imagine it any other way; she can’t imagine it being any different.

Which is why she finds herself standing outside of Beca’s apartment, hand raised and ready to knock.

But, she supposes, it  _ is  _ different now.

They’re not the same Beca and Chloe anymore and they haven’t been for a while now. Chloe used to think everything changed when she moved in with Chicago, but she’s starting to think that maybe it all happened before then. 

Though she can’t quite put her finger on  _ when  _ they started slowly drifting from each other, she knows they have been, without a doubt, drifting apart over the years. And the thought of ever losing Beca is unbearable, despite how she currently feels right now; how she wants to yell and cry and scream at her for being the common factor in all of her failed relationships over the years.

Obviously, Chloe knows that isn’t fair. Chloe knows that she only has her own feelings to blame and that Beca is just…  _ Beca. _

_ Her  _ Beca.

And despite everything, they always find their way back to each other. And, Chloe thinks, that has to mean  _ something, _ right?

She inhales deeply, her hand clenching into a fist before she finally knocks.

* * *

It takes everything Beca has in her to push herself to get out of bed.

Her head is pounding and she wonders, briefly, why she hadn’t left herself some water and an Advil on her nightstand like she usually does, something that Chloe taught her to do back in college as a form of self-love. 

(Beca used to shake her head at that, but now she knows how important it is.)

She remembers that she had fallen asleep waiting for Chloe to text her back, and she turns to look cautiously at her phone resting beside her pillow, her heart pounding in her chest already. She watches it for a minute, as though it’s about to explode in front of her, and it’s only when she feels another pang at the back of her head, reminding her of her hangover, that she realizes that she’s being stupid.

(Which is not very hard for her to do these days, it seems.)

She picks up her phone and presses the home button to wake up the screen, not surprised to see that it’s way past noon. She unlocks it and scrolls through her notifications, sighing when she doesn’t see any from Chloe.

It’s not like she’s surprised, though. Her memory of last night may be a little hazy, but she distinctly remembers the hurt look on Chloe’s face before she left. Beca knows that what she did was unfair and she doesn’t blame Chloe for ignoring her.

It doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

She stops herself from thinking too much about it, and instead makes her way over to the kitchen to brew some coffee and take some Advil while she goes through her schedule in her mind. She should’ve been at the studio an hour ago, and she decides to send a text to Theo later telling him that she’s sick. She’s supposed to call her dad later—she’s already thinking up an excuse to get out of that—and there are a few emails that need to be replied to, if she recalls. Other than that, she has nothing else on.

Quickly, she decides—without putting much thought to it, really—that today is a free day. She can deal with everything else tomorrow, when she’s not severely hungover and hating herself.

She takes her coffee over to her desk, averting her eyes when they instinctively look at the framed photo of Chloe, Amy and herself on her desk.

(It’s a photo that Chloe had paid to be made into a Christmas card to send to the rest of the Bellas and their families. She remembers Chloe putting her phone on a timer to take it after forcing an ugly Christmas sweater onto Beca, and it had taken about fifteen minutes for them to actually take one decent photo.

Beca smiles at the memory, despite her heart aching painfully in her chest.)

She decides to be kind to her heart today, and reaches over to place the frame face down on the desk.

She opens up the Safari browser, content to sit at her desk all day watching funny YouTube videos, but she’s suddenly interrupted mid-sip of coffee by a knock on the door.

She’s already frowning before she’s standing up, mentally going through the, albeit very small, list of people who know the door code to let themselves into the building. Other than Chloe, who she’s positive isn’t outside of her apartment right now, the only person she can think of it being is Theo. She wouldn’t put it past him to let himself in, since she is currently supposed to be at the studio with him and she hasn’t returned any of his calls.

There’s another knock, and she shouts out a quick “one sec!” as she puts some pants on, because although her relationship with Theo is more  _ friends  _ than  _ colleagues  _ now, she doesn’t exactly want to be half-naked in front of him.

She unlocks the door, swinging it open and preparing herself for yet another one of Theo’s angry spiels about how she needs to actually come to the studio if she wants to get the album finished.

Her heart sinks into her chest when she sees Chloe standing there instead.

And although her mouth is parted, ready to speak—ready to ask Chloe what she’s doing here—her throat suddenly feels tight, like she physically cannot talk or even  _ breathe. _

She inhales slowly before her breath hitches at the look on Chloe’s face; the downturn of her mouth and the mascara stains under her eyes and God, she’s  _ crying, _ and Beca  _ cannot  _ handle a crying Chloe Beale, especially not when she’s hungover and only woke up twenty minutes ago.

“Hi,” she whispers, her heart rate already quickening when she watches Chloe’s gaze drop to her mouth.

She pretends not to notice it.

“Can I, um,” Chloe cuts herself off, clearing her throat. If the tear tracks down her cheeks doesn’t give away that she’s been crying, the thickness and the emotion in her voice definitely does. “Can I come in?”

Beca is immediately stepping out of the way, opening the door further and motioning for Chloe to come in, though she can’t bring it in herself to return Chloe’s obligatory, friendly smile.

“Is... everything okay?”

The way Chloe laughs sends a jolt of pain straight to Beca’s chest, even before Chloe is turning around and scowling at her.

“Are you kidding me?”

Beca presses her lips together as she inhales and exhales out of her nose shakily, trying to keep her emotions at bay, but it’s  _ hard. _ Chloe has never looked at her this way before, not even during their many fights in college about the setlist and Beca not taking things seriously enough, and not even when they used to live together and fought over who should do the dishes or who gets to shower first before work.

She’s never seen Chloe look at her like she  _ hates  _ her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, shaking her head. Her lip trembles and she immediately clenches her jaw to stop herself from crying.

She avoids Chloe’s gaze for as long as she can, until she hears her sigh.

“I told Chicago.”

Beca looks up, her mouth parting and her eyes locking with Chloe’s.

“You did?”

“You’ll be happy to know that we are not”—she sucks in a shaky breath—“together anymore.”

“What?”

“Yup,” she smiles, though Beca knows that it’s not the type of smile that she’s used to seeing from Chloe. It’s heartbroken, full of disdain and malice and—the thought makes Beca feel sick— _ hatred. _

She can already feel her eyes stinging and her throat starting to close up.

“I’m sorry,” she gulps, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat.

“You’re not sorry. This is what you wanted, right?”

She closes her eyes—eyes that are currently filled with tears threatening to spill over—and sucks in a quick breath.

When she opens her eyes again, Chloe looks terrified.

Beca shakes her head, breathing out a soft, defeated breath.

“No,” she whispers. “Not like  _ this.” _

Beca thinks it’s the heartbreak in her voice, something that she doesn’t even recognize, that causes Chloe’s face to soften. There’s a tear sliding down her face and although Beca can’t stand when Chloe cries, she’s too scared to step forward and do anything about it. Chloe’s reaction to her thus far has been nothing but negative, so she figures that it would only be in her best interest to just do  _ nothing. _

And it’s so fucking hard.

She hates seeing Chloe cry, cannot stand the sight of her bloodshot eyes or her trembling bottom lip. Yet, she’s been the one that has caused it twice now. She’s the one that has made Chloe feel this way. She’s the one that went too far and not only ruined their friendship, but Chloe’s whole marriage.

Honestly, Beca’s surprised that Chloe hasn’t screamed at her for fucking her life up. If she was in Chloe’s position right now, she would hate her own guts for what she’s done to her.

But, she reminds herself, this is Chloe. Chloe doesn’t get mad, at least not at her. Even when she’s hurting, like she is right now, Chloe has never said anything to Beca that she hasn’t deserved. Even when they used to fight in college, or when they still lived together, Chloe  _ never _ took it that step too far.

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” she repeats, her voice quiet and defeated. She truly doesn’t know what else to say and she cannot stand that Chloe is looking at her the way she is right now.

She turns around, moving towards the couch and sitting down slowly. As much as she wants to put her head in her hands and break down sobbing, she still wants to hold onto the minuscule amount of dignity she has left. The selfish part of her doesn’t want this to be the last thing Chloe sees before she leaves her for good.

So, to say she’s surprised when she feels the couch dip beside her and hears Chloe sigh defeatedly is an understatement.

She looks up, ready to take whatever punch to the gut Chloe will tell her next.  _ ‘I hate you,’ _ she hears in her mind.  _ ‘I never want to see you again’, ‘don’t ever think about calling me.’ _

Ultimately, Chloe doesn’t say anything. Not with her words, at least.

They’ve been friends for long enough for Beca to know, even after all this time, when Chloe needs something from her. When she pouts her lips, she wants Beca to do something for her, like make her food or a cup of hot cocoa. When she sighs wistfully and looks away, acting unbothered, she wants to lie in bed together and watch a movie. When she smiles excitedly at her, biting her lip to stop her grin from completely taking over her entire face, she wants Beca to go out drinking with her and her work friends.

Now, as Beca watches Chloe’s eyes drift to the ceiling as her bottom lip trembles, Beca can only do the thing that she’s done countless times before.

She whispers a soft “c’mere” as she wraps her arm around Chloe’s shoulders, pulling her in and letting her collapse against her. The sobs come almost instantaneously, as soon as Chloe’s head buries into her shirt. Beca sits back against the couch, hugging Chloe to her body as she lets her cry, running her hands through her hair and wondering how the hell she can make things right again.

* * *

Chloe’s not sure when she fell asleep, but when she wakes up on Beca’s couch with a blanket over her, she almost forgets why she’s even here in the first place. 

Although she wants to stay ignorant to the events that transpired, the things that brought her here in the first place, she learned the hard way that she can’t ignore things like this. She can’t ignore the way she feels when she sits up to see Beca working at her desk, unaware of her eyes on her. She has her headphones on and she’s nodding her head along to something, and Chloe stretches her neck to look at Beca’s laptop screen to see that she has her complicated music software open, the one that she tried to teach Chloe in her dorm room all those years ago. 

The memory makes her smile, despite the ache in her chest when she’s reminded of  _ why _ she’s here on Beca’s couch in the first place.

She clears her throat to try and get Beca’s attention, but it doesn’t really work. It’s then, when Chloe tears her eyes away from Beca to the coffee table in front of her, that she sees a paper bag with her name on it, along with a cup of what looks like water and some Advil beside it.

She reaches out for the cup first, taking a drink of it before picking up the tablet and throwing it back with another gulp of water. Her stomach growls, then, signalling that she’s much hungrier than she had thought. She glances at the clock on the wall to see that it’s six o’clock and she’s reminded of the fact that she hasn’t eaten anything since Chicago’s breakfast this morning, and suddenly her heart is aching once again.

When she opens the bag, she’s surprised to see that Beca has been to the sushi place they used to frequent together since they moved to New York. It’s not exactly the cheapest place to get lunch from, so she tells herself to pay Beca back as soon as she can.

Although it feels weird to be sitting here eating in silence while Beca is at the other side of the room, unaware of the fact that Chloe is even awake, it also feels so familiar that Chloe allows herself to imagine that things are okay. At least, just until she’s eaten her sushi. Because as much as she’s hurting right now, she’s always felt  _ okay _ with Beca. She’s always felt like nothing in the world could make her  _ not _ want to be coexisting with her; Chloe doing her own thing and Beca doing the same.

It’s so similar to their dynamic in college, Chloe studying for her exams and Beca procrastinating her own studying by starting another mix. The only difference is there’s now a wall between them that they’ve both, unknowingly, built up together, and Chloe wonders if there’s any way they can knock it down.

“You’re awake.”

The sound of Beca’s voice pulls her out of her reverie, and it takes her a few seconds to notice the feeling of tears on her cheeks. She puts her chopsticks down, quickly wiping her eyes and pulling herself together as much as she can.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you, I know you don’t like sleeping all day but,” Beca stands up, making her way over to Chloe. “I figured you needed the rest.”

Chloe looks up at Beca, swallowing thickly before nodding and placing her tray of unfinished sushi on the coffee table in front of her. She removes the blanket from around her—the blanket that smells so much like Beca that it had caused her heart to swell in her chest when she woke up to it—and bunches it up in a ball before moving it to the other side of the couch.

Beca watches her, her hands wringing in front of her and her eyes nervously looking around as if afraid to let her eyes linger on Chloe. 

Chloe notices. She always notices.

“Thanks for the—” she cuts herself off, motioning towards the sushi in front of her, before she’s standing up and looking around for her bag, which she quickly remembers she left in her car. “Um,” she looks at Beca, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m gonna get out of your hair, you probably…”

The frown on Beca’s face stops her, and although Beca doesn’t say anything, Chloe knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m not— I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Beca interrupts. “I know.”

And Chloe knows. Chloe knows immediately what Beca is telling her.  _ I know you’re not ready. I know, I know you need time. It’s okay. _

She realizes then, that Beca doesn’t have any hidden intentions. She’s not trying to win Chloe over by covering her with a blanket and buying her sushi. She’s not trying and hoping to make things okay just like that. She’s not doing anything that she wouldn’t do if this happened before the fallout; if this happened a year ago, or back in college. 

Beca is simply being her  _ friend, _ and Chloe finds that she appreciates that more than anything else. So much that tears start to spring to her eyes again.

“Chloe?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Chloe confesses, letting out a heavy sigh as she wipes her eyes. She sits back down on the couch again, and Beca waits a couple of beats before she’s following suit and sitting beside her.

Chloe turns to Beca, clenching her jaw. She’s sad and angry and heartbroken, but the one thing she needs right now is a friend and she knows that Beca is more than willing to be that for her.

“You can stay here.” Beca tells her. “For however long you need.”

Chloe can only sigh, jutting her jaw to the side as she looks around the apartment that is so familiar but feels brand new.

“Why are you doing this?” She turns to Beca, frowning.

She watches as Beca’s shoulders sink, before she’s letting out a soft, defeated sigh. It takes a few more seconds for Chloe to realize she’s not getting an answer. Maybe she already knows the answer, and part of her isn’t even surprised that Beca can’t say it out loud. It’s been that way for years now, so she’s not sure why today would be any different.

She feels Beca shift beside her, bringing her legs up to rest on the couch as she faces her.

“I love you.”

Chloe’s face softens at the confession, and although she heard a version of those words whispered to her last night, when it felt like Beca was only saying them to get her to stay, it pulls at her heartstrings when she realizes that Beca,  _ her _ Beca, is telling her because she means it, not because she  _ doesn’t. _

And she wants to say them back, more than she’s ever wanted anything, but her words get caught in her throat when she sees the raw vulnerability in Beca’s eyes, the anxiety in her small smile and the shake in her fingers that are nervously dancing over her own knuckles, something that Chloe knows Beca does when she’s scared.

“I know I’m too late but I do,” she murmurs. “I love you. And whether you need me as a friend right now or… or whatever. I still love you and I think you know that I,” she breathes in, letting out a quick breath, “I’ll always love you. Even when you don’t love me back.”

Chloe’s shoulders drop as she lets out a breath, taking in Beca’s words carefully.

She’s always known that Beca has loved her. Even when they spent time apart, not talking for days on end. It showed in the way Beca would text her cute pictures and interesting articles. It shows in the way Beca knows what she wants, even when Chloe doesn’t. It shows when she runs out to buy her favorite food to cheer her up, or make her coffee in the morning. It shows in the way Beca can put her own feelings aside—even ones that have bubbled up to the surface and come spilling out in the past couple of days—to be Chloe’s friend, above anything else.

And Chloe hates that she’s saying it under these circumstances, but she’ll take it. She’ll accept Beca’s love willingly and happily, and she’ll let her love her, if only as a friend right now, until she’s finally ready to openly love her back.

Which, Chloe is sure, won’t take too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, and thanks for sticking around! if you enjoy my writing, please follow me on [tumblr](http://bechloehuh.tumblr.com/)
> 
> i was nervous to post this since i haven't written in so long, but shoutout to [isa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isacabral/works) for proofreading this and also for convincing me, along with my other friends, to post this. ily all. thank u.


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